The Stopover

by Swan, T L

  I peer back down the hall to make sure he doesn’t come out of that room and snoop around. Oh, damn it, what’s the protocol with strangers in a place like this?

  The front door clicks, and Jameson comes into view. “Hello,” he says flatly.

  I smile. “Hi.” I wrap my arms around him. “How’s my man?”

  “Fine.” He brushes past me in a rush.

  Oh. I frown. That’s not the greeting I was hoping for.

  “Is he here yet?”

  “Yes, in the room down at the end.”

  “I’ll just have a quick shower. Can you tell him I’ll be five minutes, please?”

  “Sure.”

  He disappears into the bedroom, and I walk back down the hall. “Jameson is just taking a quick shower. He will only be a few minutes.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Matthew smiles.

  I walk back out into the kitchen and stir the vegetables I have cooking. Maybe I should have stayed at my place tonight. He didn’t seem too pleased to see me.

  Ten minutes later warm hands come around my waist from behind, and Jameson’s lips find my temple. “Hey, babe,” he whispers softly.

  I turn to find him with a white towel around his waist. “Everything all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m just really tired.” He exhales heavily. “The last thing I feel like is a fucking massage,” he whispers as he holds his cheek to mine.

  “You’ll feel much better after it,” I say. “Massage, dinner, and bed.”

  He rolls his eyes and trudges up the hall.

  I smile as I listen. Every time Jameson inhales, he gives a slight snore. I’m sitting on the couch in my pajamas watching a movie, and he’s lying with his head on my lap, fast asleep.

  This feels strangely . . . normal.

  He wasn’t joking when he said he was tired. He’s more than tired—he’s exhausted.

  I think it’s more mental exhaustion than physical, and I can’t imagine what he deals with at work every day. He’s had the pressure of running Miles Media from such a young age. Even in his youth, he would have been coached for this role. But Jameson Miles the CEO is a mere mortal, and I feel a protective urge roll over me.

  I mindlessly run my fingers through his hair and enjoy this close time with him.

  I don’t imagine many people see him so relaxed. “Jay,” I whisper softly.

  He frowns in his sleep.

  “Jay, bedtime, baby,” I whisper.

  He inhales as he stretches and blinks, as if not knowing where he is.

  I run my fingers through his hair. “Bedtime.” I smile softly.

  I get up and turn off the lights and the television, and then he takes my hand and leads me down the hall to his bedroom. He brushes his teeth and gets into bed.

  A few moments later, once I’m ready, I climb into bed beside him, and he pulls me into his arms. “Good night, sweetheart,” he whispers as he kisses my forehead. We lie cheek to cheek. There’s a closeness between us that I haven’t felt before.

  “Good night.” I snuggle against his chest.

  This night has been nonsexual . . . and normal . . . and weirdly intimate.

  I may be addicted.

  I wake to the feeling of strong hands holding my inner thighs apart. Jameson’s head is between my legs, and his thick tongue swipes through my sex. My head throws back, and my hands go to the back of his head. My body is pumping with arousal, so I know he’s been at it awhile. “Oh God,” I moan. “Good morning, Jay.”

  He turns his head and kisses my inner thigh. “Morning.”

  He bites my clitoris, and I close my eyes. Good God. He’s awake now and in all his glory. He continues to suck as waves of pleasure start to pulse through me. He pushes three thick fingers aggressively into my sex, and I wince. This is Jameson’s specialty—finger fucking me with such force that I orgasm before we even have sex.

  I’ve never been with a man who can pleasure me in so many different ways.

  He begins to ride me, his whole hand centered on the task. My legs are back to the mattress, and God. “Oh God . . . so good,” I breathe. The sound of my wet arousal echoes through the silent room as he works me.

  This man is insane. Ten minutes ago I was dead asleep.

  He bends and nips my clitoris, and I convulse as I come in a rush. My body lurches forward, and he pushes me back down. “Shh,” he whispers as he calms me. “Again,” he chants as his eyes hold mine.

  “No.” I sit up in a rush and grab his shoulder and pull him up over me. We kiss as we fall back to the mattress, and my leg wraps around his waist.

  Hell, what a way to wake up.

  Our kiss turns frantic, and I feel his cock nudge my opening, and then he pauses.

  “It’s okay. I’m on the pill,” I breathe as I hold his face to mine.

  He closes his eyes for a split second, and then, as if unable to relax without a condom, he drags himself off me and goes to the bedside. I watch as he tears one open and rolls it on.

  Then he’s back on me. He slides home deep in one swift movement. I cry out as my sex begins to spasm around his thick muscle. “Hold it,” he growls.

  Fuck . . . how are you supposed to hold it? Like that’s a thing.

  He looks down at me. His olive skin has a sheen of perspiration, his blue eyes are beaming, and I smile in wonder at the perfect specimen in front of me . . . inside me.

  He widens his legs and goes up unto his knees and then lifts my legs in front of him by my ankles and begins to pump me—thick, heavy hits—and his jaw hangs slack as he watches the place our bodies meet.

  I can see every muscle in his torso contract as he pushes forward. Goddamn . . . watching Jameson Miles fuck is the world’s best porn. He picks up the pace, and his body goes into overdrive. I scrunch the blankets beneath me as I feel myself build.

  The sound of our bodies slapping together echoes through the room. His eyes close in ecstasy, and he moans as his body really goes to town. “I’m close,” I whimper.

  “Hold it,” he barks as he pumps.

  “Jameson.”

  He grabs my legs and puts them to one side and together, and his eyes flicker with arousal as his pumps become slow and measured.

  Oh . . . my man likes it tight.

  I clench down, and his head throws back. I clench again, and he can’t hold it. He holds himself deep, and I feel the telling jerk as he comes deep inside my body. He empties himself, and then, knowing I can’t come in that position, rises over me and kisses me as we fall tender.

  This is what I love . . . this is my favorite kind of sex with him. Gentle, tender lovemaking. He holds himself up onto his elbows and kisses me as his body gives me exactly what I need.

  Him . . . I need all of him.

  Our eyes are locked as something so beautiful runs between us. His kiss is tender, but it’s the look in his eyes that’s turning me inside out.

  We’re falling for each other.

  This is not casual sex; this isn’t even sex. This is the ultimate lovemaking.

  “Jay,” I pant as my eyes search his.

  “I know, baby,” he whispers. I grip his shoulders, and he holds himself deep, and my body contracts around his.

  His lips take mine, and our kiss is slow and unhurried and everything I’ve never had.

  He slowly finishes me and then drops to the mattress beside me and rolls me to face him.

  We look at each other, and I’m overwhelmed with a feeling of closeness.

  I stare at his beautiful face, and I smile softly. “I feel like—”

  “Don’t.” He cuts me off.

  “What?” I frown.

  “Don’t ruin this.”

  I’m at a loss by what he means. “How would I ruin this?”

  “Don’t fall in love with me, Emily.”

  What the hell? I stare at him. “Why not?”

  “Because we’re not like that. Get that through your head. Right now.” He gets up in a rush and walks into the bathroom and closes the door. It
shuts with a sharp snap.

  I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. I was going to say that I felt like that was the best alarm clock of all time.

  Love was just an afterthought.

  Chapter 15

  I get out of bed and storm into the bathroom. I find him under the shower.

  “For the record, Jameson,” I snap, “I was going to tell you that you should wake me up like that every day.”

  He narrows his eyes in anger.

  “It seems to me that the only person who’s thinking about love around here is you.”

  He rolls his eyes as he soaps his groin.

  His eye-rolling infuriates me. “So don’t turn this around and push me away because you are falling in love with me!” I don’t know what to say next, so I storm out. I grab my bag and head down to one of the other bathrooms to shower. I’m not getting in with him. Stupid jerk.

  Half an hour later, I walk out into the kitchen to see Mr. Miles the CEO—gray suit, white shirt, and cranky controlled persona firmly back in place. “Are you ready?”

  “Ah.” I look around. “I’ll just get my things.” I go into the bedroom and glance at myself in the mirror. I’m wearing his favorite outfit today, and he didn’t even notice. Well . . . poof to him.

  Damn control freak is pissing me off.

  I walk back out with my overnight bag over my shoulder. “Let’s go.”

  His brow furrows when he sees what I’m carrying. “What are you doing with that bag? Just get it later.”

  “I’ll take it to work with me. That’s fine.” My eyes hold his. “I have a lot going on this week.”

  His jaw clenches as he glares at me. “Good.” He turns and walks out, and I smirk.

  I let you have the control for the last few days, Mr. Miles, but don’t misjudge my submission as a weakness.

  I will not beg for any man to love me, CEO billionaire with blue eyes or not.

  Don’t wreck it.

  I know I told him I want friends with benefits . . . but the rules have changed.

  For me, anyway.

  We get into the elevator, and I stare straight ahead. I can feel the animosity oozing out of him. Part of me hates that I’m letting him get worked up before he even starts for the day, but screw it. I can’t spend my life tiptoeing around his stress levels.

  We walk out through the foyer, and the limo is parked and waiting. Alan is standing next to the door.

  “Hello, Alan.” I smile as we approach as if I don’t have a care in the world.

  Alan smiles and nods in acknowledgment.

  Jameson stays silent. He holds his hand out for me to get in first. I climb in and shuffle over the seat, and Jameson gets in beside me.

  A folded newspaper sits on the seat, and I pick it up and begin to read.

  Jameson stares at me, and I know it’s his paper. Well, too bad—I got it first. For ten minutes, I read in silence. There is none of my fake news today. Hmm. I wonder if this has a correlation to me not having it to Hayden by four yesterday. I think about it for a moment. I’m going to test this theory today. I’ll have a story to him by three and see what happens.

  “What are you doing tonight?” he asks.

  “I’m going out with Ava,” I lie as I pass the paper to him.

  “I told you I didn’t want you going clubbing with her.”

  I smile. The nerve of this control freak. “What I do when I’m not with you is none of your business, Jameson.”

  “So now you’re going to be all dramatic?”

  I roll my eyes. “Will you just stop.”

  “Stop what?”

  My eyes hold his. “I’m not in love with you. So . . . you can stop worrying that I am. I enjoy your company, but you obviously have a hang-up about someone caring for you and mistake it for love.” I roll my eyes. “It’s all a bit too hard, to be honest.”

  His jaw clenches, and I know he’s fuming on the inside. “What does that mean?”

  “What?” I ask.

  “That it’s too hard.”

  “It means go and find someone else not to fall in love with you.” I shrug. “I’m fine with that.”

  “You’re fine with that?” he whispers angrily. “So if I went and had sex with someone else tonight, you’d be fine with that?”

  I frown as I stare at him. What the hell is going on in that head of his? I drag my hand down my face. “Jameson, for fuck’s sake. What do you want from me?”

  “I don’t know,” he snaps.

  “Fine.” I blow out a deep breath. “Let’s leave it at that, then.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “My God,” I snap in exasperation. “For a smart man, you’re being really stupid. I can’t help you work out what you want from me, Jameson.”

  He stares at me.

  “One minute you’re telling me not to ruin it by falling in love with you, and the next minute you’re telling me you don’t want me going out without you.”

  He sits back in his seat, affronted.

  “I want a close friend to have sex with. We talked about this. It seems to me that the only person breaking the rules here is you. Why are you even thinking about love?”

  “Don’t turn this on me,” he whispers angrily.

  “All right, then,” I snap. “Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you have no feelings for me?”

  He rolls his eyes in disgust.

  “Can you?”

  “Of course I can.”

  I look him straight in the eye. “Do it, then.”

  “What?”

  “Tell me that you don’t have feelings for me. Tell me you have never thought of me once over the last year and that you never kept my scarf.”

  He narrows his eyes in anger.

  “Like I thought,” I huff as I turn my attention back out the window.

  “I wondered how long it would be until that snarky bitch reared her ugly head,” he mutters under his breath.

  “Ha,” I huff. “At least that bitch knows what she wants.”

  “And what’s that?” he sneers.

  “A man; that’s what she wants—one who isn’t afraid of his feelings.”

  “Go to hell,” he whispers. “Just stop talking. You’re stressing me the fuck out with all your shit. If I wanted a psychiatrist, I would date one.”

  I smirk as I look out the window. “We’re not dating, Jameson. We’re just fucking. Get it right.”

  “You go out with Ava trolling for men tonight, and we won’t even be doing that.”

  “Excuse me?” I snap as my anger starts to simmer. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  His eyes hold mine. “I can. And I just did.”

  “Jameson.” I pause as I try to think of a calm and intelligent reply. “I would never sleep with someone behind your back—you know that. But you can’t tell me where I’m allowed to go. Even if you loved me, which you don’t, I wouldn’t allow you to dictate what I can do.”

  “I mean it.”

  “Go to hell.” The car pulls up around the corner at my spot where I get out, and I open the door in a rush.

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he snaps as I climb out.

  I lean back into the car. “Yeah, wait for me. I’ll be there when hell freezes over.” I slam the door in a rush.

  The limo pulls out and slowly drives down the road toward the Miles Media building, and I inhale to try to calm my furiously beating heart.

  Stupid fucking jerk.

  “Wonder what this is about?” Molly frowns as she reads the news from her computer.

  “What what’s about?” I reply as I type.

  “It says here that Miles Media is having crisis meetings today with shareholders and that more meetings are scheduled in London next week.”

  My heart drops; Jameson’s going to London next week. “What?”

  She turns her computer screen to face me, and I read the financial reviews story on the Miles Media stock prices slump. I lean my face onto my hand as I re
ad on.

  God . . . what a nightmare. I look over and see Jake laughing with one of the girls in her cubicle as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. What is that stupid idiot doing? Is he even investigating the damn case at all?

  Ugh, honestly, I think he’s the wrong man for the job. No investigating seems to be getting done, although I’m sure he has the phone numbers of every single girl on the floor. Should I tell him my thoughts about Hayden? No, it’s only a hunch with no real evidence. I’m testing the theory today.

  Screw this. I’ll have to find out who’s doing this myself. It’s obvious Jake has no frigging idea.

  From the corner of my eye, I see people scurry back to their desks, and I glance up to see Jameson and Tristan walking through the floor. Tristan smiles and talks to people as he walks along. Jameson stays solemn, in all his cranky gorgeousness.

  His back is ramrod straight, and his face is so damn kissable it hurts.

  You’re angry with him . . . remember, fool? Look away, look away.

  I go back to my computer, but then I see out of the corner of my eye the familiar gray suit. I look up to find Jameson standing next to my desk. “Hello, Mr. Miles.” I fake a smile.

  His eyes hold mine. “Hello.”

  “Can I help you, sir?”

  “Where is Jake?” he says through gritted teeth.

  “Jake would be flirting somewhere in the office,” I say quietly. “Look for a good-looking woman, and you will find him.” I point in the direction of Jake with my pen.

  Jameson inhales sharply as he glares over at Jake as he talks to a blonde, completely unaware that he is being watched. Jameson’s eyes flick to Tristan, and they both give a subtle shake of their heads.

  “Tristan, I was wondering if I can see you for a few moments at some point this afternoon, please?” I ask.

  “Yes, of course. Come up in half an hour.”

  Jameson’s eyes stay fixed on me for a beat longer than necessary, as if he’s waiting for me to say something. I smile warmly as I hide my anger. Maybe he’s right, and I really am a bitch. “Bye.”

  “Goodbye,” he says as he turns and walks over toward Jake.

  I smile as I watch the moment Jake sees him coming and how fast he jumps up from the corner of that desk. Jameson says something to him, and then I watch as Jake is marched to the elevator.